


Death Rattle

by sushisama



Series: Zillullah AU [3]
Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Fluff, M/M, little bit of violence, zillullah verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 18:42:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4490511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sushisama/pseuds/sushisama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unsure of his own reasoning, Judal visits Sindria in what he still swears was an attempt on the king's life.  Established SinJu, part of the Zillullah AU, set before the story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death Rattle

**Author's Note:**

> Got a change to write another bonus chapter, this one not smutty. This would be about a month or so before the series itself.

Judal had no idea what he was doing.

It wasn't the first time he had been like that, of course.  There were so many instances, so many occasions where he just acted, not really thinking, just doing.  The reasons he did things varied, from orders that he loosely followed to simply enjoying himself, but he did them eagerly and without thought.  He could probably accredit the behaviour to his upbringing, being assured over and over, that as long as his actions would end in depravity and an increase in black Rukh, he should have no fear of consequences.

So he never did.  He never thought about what would happen next, he just ploughed through his life, never looking back, always moving forward, especially if it meant heading toward something enjoyable.

That was how he had looked at his relationship with the king of Sindria, at least when it started.  Even the first time, he was just bored, just wanting to see what it was like, and he knew Sinbad would be safe.  Safe, in that he wouldn't intentionally hurt Judal, that he would let him have some semblance of control, that he would make it pleasant.  After all, he was an experienced lover, from the rumours he heard.  That had to mean something, that he knew what he was doing.  And if something went wrong, it would have been easy to kill him and escape, no one knowing what happened to the king. 

That was the first time. 

The next time, he had been close to Sindria with one of his little self expeditions, and he ventured in, under the guise he would kill him.  And for a moment, he had meant it, he was even going to tie him up, do the deed, and at the last moment, stopped.  He couldn't bring himself to do it, no matter what, and he didn't even stop to think about why.  There was no lapse of memory, no lingering idea of what it would mean to be without him, he simply just... stopped, half on the man's bed, staring at him.  And then he ran, again not thinking, and he had been surprised that Sinbad had followed.

Though, he did enjoy the chase, even gave him a way to pursue, instead of flying away.  Not to mention getting caught led to something even more pleasant.

All of it without thinking.  Every other time, without thinking.  He was near Sindria, he went.  He already went to all of their celebrations and festivals, now he just made a different pit stop before returning to Kou.  There had been times where Kou and Sindria ended up in summits together, and he would sneak off with the king, or even the few times they happened to be in the same vicinity or town for whatever reason.  All of it was impulsive, every coy smile he sent at him, every stolen kiss, every moment he claimed for himself.

But then came the things he did, even when he wasn't around the king.  The unbidden thoughts, the dreams where he stayed in Sindria, the little messenger spells he would send with no words in them, the nights alone in Kou where he would burn the incense he stole from the man's room and pretend he was there in a lonely sweat while quietly moaning his name.  He did not think of these things, he just did them.  Thinking of them would only allow him to consider the consequences.

He had nights of those thoughts, or at least close to what it meant, where he would dwell on the possibility of staying with him.  For almost a year, since their night shacked up in a hostel during a terrible storm with just jugs of wine and open words between naked skin, Sinbad had asked him to stay.  It wasn't like he hadn't asked before, but it was different now, because he knew the man was asking not to just have a Magi, but to have him.  And most of the time, he didn't think about it.  Most of the time, he let the question roll off, not considering it either way, because things were already working they way they were, and more thought into it would end the carefree nature of their relationship.

At least, that was what he told himself when his mind wandered.  A year away, he would know differently.  A year away, he would not only be able to explain all of his actions, how they were tied to his emotions, he would willingly admit to them to certain people.

But, for now, he did not understand what he was doing, he just went forward.  And forward, right in the moment, was straddling the king in the middle of the night, the man asleep while he raised a knife, aimed straight for his heart. 

He wasn't thinking.  He was acting.  Acting on his anger and on his bitterness, misplaced as it was, but he couldn't destroy his handlers, not in its entirety.  He didn't even understand that was what he really wanted, not yet, he just knew he was tired of the rituals, of the commands, of only being told parts of plans.  He didn't care for the end, except it wasn't at all close to his war, it was too much political movement, in too many places, not just Kou.

There was more.  There was freedom that he was promised, but at the end of the day, he was on a leash.  He could do what he wanted, but only so far.  He still had to return.  He still had to do what they wanted, even if he didn't do it exactly how they wanted.  But he didn't know how to escape, he didn't even think he could, they had him so convinced never to try, that he never did.

This time, there had been a ritual, help making some weapon to be used in some move against a harbour country, it wasn't something he particularly cared about, but he heard whispering when he came back from the fog, and a name caught his attention.  They spoke of Sindria.  They spoke of Sinbad.  They said things in hushed tones, how the island nation had grown, how there had been rumours that the king had been putting things together.

They spoke of plans, that if they could not somehow convince the king to join them (such an unlikely scenario), that the next step would be to assassinate him, but even that would take some planning.

Something about the conversation had struck a chord in him, and the moment he was allowed his freedom, he stole a carpet and left for Sindria.  It was the middle of the night when he had gotten there, and easy enough to sneak into Sinbad's room.  It was always easy to get into his room.  And the king slept almost too soundly, at least where the Oracle was concerned, and he was in and on top of him quickly.

The knife was high in the air, raised for the strike, and he was not thinking.  In that moment, all he wanted to do was kill him, be done with him.

If he had to explain himself just then, he would claim that the king's life was his, it had been his since he met him, the very first time he had ever threatened him.  That if anyone would be to kill him, it had to be Judal.  No one else could take from him what was solely his.  And he firmly believed that Sinbad completely belonged to him, mind, body, and soul, though not aloud to the real reason why.

Were he to really think, give it any honest moment of thought, he would have to confess, at least to himself, the reason why he did not want him to die.  And if he did kill him, if he even came close to admitting why, truthfully, it would be because if he was going to suffer, he would rather do it at his own hands, than Al-Tharmen taking yet another thing from his life.

He paused when the knife was at its apex, held high and waiting, but he still did not think.  He did not act, either.  He did not do anything, he didn't even feel anything.  He hesitated, his body freezing, as he went numb.  It was like he wasn't even there, outside of his own body, watching with detachment.

That was probably why he didn't notice golden eyes slowly opening, staring up at him illuminated in the moonlight.

"Judal?"

Judal blinked, as he felt like he was crawling back into himself, looking down at the man beneath him.  He made no move, not responding, knife still held high, his lips set in an even line, his expression far from readable.

Sinbad only looked at the knife, glinting in the silver light, for a hair's breath of a moment before gazing into crimson and keeping it firm.  Warm hands touched his bare sides, not in a fashion to move him, but just to be in contact with him, as he so often did.  He looked concerned, but as he kept eye contact with Judal, it was clearly not about the threat, but for the Magi himself.

"What's wrong?"

A laugh left the Oracle, something deep and almost distant to him.  The blade wavered as his shoulders moved, and he finally brought it down.  It was slow, though, a descent that turned, and he grabbed onto the hair at Sinbad's nape, exposing his throat as the metal came right below his Adam's apple.

Sinbad gulped lightly, and when his hands moved, it was to wrap slightly around his lithe body, but he said nothing.

"Why?"

Golden eyes still didn't leave him.  "Why what?" he asked.

"I'm going to kill you," he said flatly.  "Why don't you stop me?"

"Will it make you feel better?"

Judal furrowed his brow.  " _What_?"

A hand moved, slow, up his side, and Judal couldn't help the shudder that passed through him at the soft touch.  Fingers came to rest on his cheek, just barely there.  "It's why you're here, isn't it?" he went on, his voice still quiet.  If he was anxious about the blade at his throat, he wasn't letting on about it.

"Idiot King, what do you--"

"Something's wrong," he interrupted.  He grazed Judal's check with his thumb.

"What makes you think something's wrong?"

"I can tell, Judal."  He smiled faintly.  "Do you really think after all this time, I couldn't tell when you're upset?"

Judal growled.  He could not be reading him that easy.  It wasn't the first time he had some sort of weapon to him, and he figured it wouldn't be the last he would threaten the man's life.  How did his random inkling to kill him equate to something upsetting him?

Even if he was right, that was far from the point.

"You don't have to tell me," he said.  He was still smiling, that stupid, charming, disarming smile.  "But at least let me help."

The words triggered something in him.  A sound left him, almost a yell of rage, and the knife was in the air again, this time coming down. 

No thought.  Just action.

There was a pained grunt, a wince, but barely any movement.  Sinbad just stared up at him, his teeth clenched, but all he asked was, "Do you feel better?"

Judal held his gaze, brows still knitted.  "No.  I don't."

Sinbad chortled.  "Of course not."  His hand moved from his face, down his arm, and onto his hand.  Judal's eyes followed him, where the blade was planted into his shoulder.  He hadn't driven it in as hard as he thought, maybe there had been some last moment hesitation that he wasn't conscious of, maybe he purposely didn't give it the strength he thought he had, it didn't matter. 

Because it caught up to him, and he snapped back to himself, his eyes widening at the realisation of what he was doing, what he was thinking of doing, _what he could have done_.

The metal was almost too loud as it hit the floor, and Judal was descending on the wound he had caused.  It wasn't deep, but it wasn't shallow, either, and he didn't know if he had hit muscle or not.  Blood seeped out of the wound, pooling beneath him and staining his silk sheets in a slow cascade.

"Sinbad, what--"

"It's okay," the king assured as he sat up, wincing as he did.

Judal moved off him, sitting at his side as he straightened himself out.  Sinbad inspected the damage, grunting as he poked at it.

"Wait, let me."

Sinbad took his hand away as he let Judal get close again.  The Magi concentrated on the hole for a moment, taking in what he had done before working on the area.  There was more pained noises and gritted teeth as he used heat at first to stop the bleeding, then ice to keep it cool and manage the pain.

The king said nothing as he watched him work.  Once he was done, Judal stared at the wound, unblinking.  He skimmed a finger around it, not touching the actually hole.

"Sinbad, I don't--"

An arm wound behind him, and pulled him into his side, despite the pained look and sound that came with it.  "It's okay."

" _Not it isn't_ ," he growled.  "Why do you always do that?"

Sinbad sighed and kissed the side of his head.  "Because no one else does."

Judal growled again, but didn't push away as Sinbad laid more kisses on his face and neck.  He didn't know what he meant, but he didn't want to ask.  It was more than he was willing to think about at the moment, though.

He hadn't thought, he had just acted, like so many times before.  But this time, this time, he was forced to deal with consequences.  He had hurt Sinbad, and though it didn't seem to be that bad of a wound, it still meant something that he had done it at all.  And it meant more that Sinbad was almost literally shrugging it off.

"Seeing as that didn't work," Sinbad interrupted his thoughts, "what can I do to make you feel better?"

"What makes you think that's what I want?" Judal retorted.  He still wasn't looking up at him, staring absently into his chest as he let himself be held.

"Of course it is."  Sinbad put a finger under his chin, gently tilting his head so crimson had to look into gold.  "Why else would be here?"

"I'm going to kill you," he said simply, but with no real weight to his words.

Sinbad laughed.  "You know that means something else coming from you."

"What?" he asked, confused.  "What does it mean?"

Sinbad tilted his head some, raising a brow.  "You still don't know?"

"Idiot, what are you talking about?"

But he just smiled at him before leaning in to kiss him gently.  "It's okay, I can wait."

"You're not making any sense."

He laughed again.  He kissed him on the nose before detaching himself completely and standing up.  Judal watched him as he got some night clothes on, not sure what he was doing until he turned and offered a hand.  "Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"Just downstairs, I have an idea."

"For what?" Judal inquired as he took his hand.

He pulled him up and into a small hug before leading him out of the bedroom.  "To help you feel better."

"I told you, I don't--"

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you," he interrupted, but grinned.  "Then let's put it this way: you owe me some quality time after what you did to my shoulder."

Judal huffed.  "I should probably just leave."

He grunted when he was pushed harshly against a pillar, just barely a level down from the bedroom.  Sinbad was staring into his eyes, his brow furrowed, his lips set in a rough line.

"Tonight," he whispered harshly, "tonight, you stay."  His tone was commanding, rightful of a king, and Judal couldn't help but be quiet while he spoke, his eyes wide.  "You don't just get to drop in, do this," he pointed at his shoulder, "and then not even let me take care of you.  Whatever it was, you took it out on me, and that's okay.  That's fine.  You and I, _we're_ fine."

"Idiot--"

"No.  No telling me you have to go back to Kou, no skipping out.  Not tonight."  His eyes softened, and he took Judal's face in his large hands.  "You came here for a reason.  You didn't have to, you never have to, but you're here now, and you're here because you wanted to see me, whether you want to admit to it or not."

And then Sinbad pulled him into his arms, a tight embrace that Judal didn't return at first only because of his surprise.  "You really just don't get these things, do you, Judal?"

The Magi hesitated, before slowly putting his arms around the king, letting himself be held as Sinbad buried his forehead into his neck.  "I still don't understand you."

"Yes, you do," he whispered.  "You have to."  His arms tightened as he just barely murmured, "I know I'm not wrong."

"You're being weird, Sinbad," Judal replied, letting out a sigh as a soft kiss was laid just below his jawline. 

Sinbad laughed and pulled away to look at him again, grinning.  "Maybe it has something to do with getting stabbed.  You know I got stabbed, right?  Just right here."  He pointed at the wound, but still smiling.

Judal scoffed at him, pushing him away by the shoulder, gaining a loud grunt from the king.  "Fine, fine.  One night."

"Good."  Sinbad took his hand again, leading him on once more. 

They didn't speak any further as they maneuvered through the palace until they came to a large set of ornate double doors on the ground level.  Sinbad opened it up, and the first thing that came into view was giant leaves.  Further in, there were flowers and plants everywhere, almost glowing in the light filtered through the glass above.

He knew the palace had an atrium, but it was the first time he had been in it.  Everything was breath taking, from the flora to the elaborate stain glass above.  When they came to what he assumed was the middle of it all, he couldn't keep his eyes from above, on the full moon streaming in through all the colours.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Sinbad asked, wrapping his arms around Judal's middle from behind.

Judal stifled his usual disinterested comment, leaning more into the body behind him.  He sighed, almost contently.  "So, star gazing is going to make me feel better?"

Sinbad chuckled, a sound that sent a shiver in him when it grazed his ear.  "I just figured we'd try something different."  His hands were skimming over the bare parts of Judal's skin, and a sound left him unbidden. 

"And what is it you want to try, Idiot King?"

Sinbad nuzzled the base of his scalp and whispered, "To get you to relax."

Judal just scoffed at him.

The king laughed, and pulled him down to sit on the grass floor.  "Stay here," he said, still standing.  "I'll be back in a few minutes."

The Magi nodded, allowing the soft kiss the man gave him before he headed out to do whatever it was he was going to do.  When he could no longer hear the king's footsteps, he laid back, his eyes still on the stars above.  The grass felt wonderful along his exposed skin, almost as good as the silk sheets on Sinbad's bed. 

He couldn't help the thought that came, the one that wondered how much more of the palace he had yet to personally know, how it wouldn't be bad to have the time to explore.  To memorise every nook and cranny, know even more hiding spots than he had already found.  Every part that he could lead the king away to, to distract him from his duties and his generals, to keep himself entertained with the man.

And not just for the physical distractions he had come to enjoy so.  No, there was more to it.  His mind wandered to other things they could do, besides such activities, like just talking amongst themselves, or traveling, even some of the simple things that the king had shown him over their time together, like just watching sunsets and sailing.  Maybe even just keeping him company while he did some of those stupid noble duties.

Judal shook his head when the thoughts became too domesticated.  No, he couldn't think like that.  Those thoughts were dangerous.  Those thoughts, like most others, had consequences. 

"Comfortable?"

Judal tilted his head back to get an upside down image of Sinbad walking back up to him.  His arms were full of bundles of blankets and a couple of other things.  He set it all down and started to make a little bed out of the blankets.  Judal flipped around, crawling over to the king, and flopping down once more once the linens were arranged.  Sinbad just chuckled at him, leaning over him a moment to lay a kiss on his forehead before he started fidgeting with what else he brought.

There was the sound of a cork popping, the glug of liquid, and by the time Judal was sitting up again, he was being handed a goblet full of a sparkling drink.

"Trying to get me drunk, Sinbad?" he teased, taking the glass and a long sip of the wine.

Sinbad hummed.  He sat down behind the Magi, a glass in his hand as well.  He put an arm around his waist, smiling at him as he said, "Just trying to get you to unwind."

Judal clicked his tongue.  "And this is supposed to help?"

"What, you've really never drunk to relax?"

"I normally don't drink alone.  It's with you or Kouen or something."

Sinbad seemed thoughtful at the information.  "Well, it's good to have company, at least.  Drinking alone isn't fun.  Nonetheless," he went on, nuzzling the base of his skull, "not trying to get you drunk.  Trying to relax you."

Judal sighed again, leaning back into Sinbad as he took another long sip.  "So, this is it?  Your plan to relax is just sitting among the dirt and drinking?"

"It's grass, not dirt, and most of it, yes."  He was slowly drinking from his own cup, while playing with the end of Judal's braid.  "You're thinking about this too much, Judal.  Do you never just... stop?"

"Stop?"

"You're always going, aren't you?"  Judal could feel him working on the binding to his hair, and the little bits of air escaping with each braid undone.  "Whenever you're here, you just want to get it started and get it over with and go.  I can't imagine you're any different back in Kou."

Judal shrugged.  "Who says I'm not?  I just come here for one thing, you know."

As Sinbad set his goblet to the side, Judal's hair fell around his shoulders, completely freed, before he swept it to one side to lay kisses on his shoulder.  "And that's what you came here for tonight?"

He could feel Sinbad removing his choker as he answered, "I came here to kill you."

He set the necklace to the side, moving his lips over the now exposed skin.  "That's not what you normally come here for, you know."

Judal clicked his tongue, but still moved his head to let Sinbad more at his neck.  He let out a sigh, taking one last long drink and setting his goblet down.  "Maybe it is.  Maybe I always want to kill you, but only when you're not useful to me anymore."

Sinbad chuckled, and the feeling against his flesh sent a shiver down him.  Hands slid under his shirt, and a sound left him as a warm palm skimmed across his chest.  "And I only have one use?"

"Sinbad, stop," he commanded softly as the fabric was being pulled up.  "I'm not in the mood tonight."

"So then why did you come here?"

Judal growled.  Sinbad needed to stop paying attention to what he was saying, catching him in his own lies and missteps of words.  "I told you, I was--"

"Going to kill me, yes, yes."  He was still pulling on the shirt, and Judal lifted his arms, letting him remove it.  "Don't worry.  I'm not really in the mood, either."

"Idiot--"

Judal's next sound was a moan as strong hands started to knead into his shoulders.  "Just let me take care of you."

The Magi subconsciously leaned forward, exposing more of his back as Sinbad worked further down.  "Why?"

Sinbad chuckled.  "You know why."

"You're being weird again."

"Maybe."  He stopped for only a moment to lay a kiss on a shoulder blade before returning to his ministrations.  "But you bring out that weird in me, you know."

Judal didn't respond, not really sure what to even say.  He just let Sinbad continue, little sounds coming from him here and there.  It wasn't the first time Sinbad had given him a backrub, and probably wouldn't be the last time.  The king seemed to enjoy treating him to the little pleasure, and he wasn't about to argue.  The man was exceptional with his hands, and he had to admit it did always make him feel nice.

The only other words between them was Sinbad telling him to lay on his stomach, and he did so without argument as the man got a better vantage to work on every knot in his tiny body.  After so long, when Judal felt like he had melted into the soft linen beneath him, Sinbad had removed his hands in favour of lips and teeth and tongue.

Every movement was slow and with purpose, everything was meant to comfort and relax, and it was certainly working.  There was nothing even sensual about it, and for once, Judal was grateful for it.  Something about it turning into what it always turned into, it felt like it would just ruin the night.

Finally, Sinbad slid off to his side, laying down next to him, and he didn't even have to pull him in, Judal instantly tucked into his side, wrapping an arm and leg around him.  The king smiled wide, putting an arm around him and holding him close as he kissed his forehead.

"Don't leave before I wake up," he whispered.  "I brought down that carpet you left, so you can leave from here, but I want to see you go."  And then he added, "If you really want to go."

Judal didn't even look at him, sighing into his chest.  "Sinbad."

"You can stay," he said, his voice still low.  "You can always stay.  There will always be a place for you here."

"I'm sure your generals will just love that."

"Judal."

"I have to go back, you know that."

Sinbad was quiet for a moment, sighing deep.  "Then just... just come back whenever you need me.  I'll take care of you."

Judal huffed.  "You say that, but I'm still going to kill you one of these days."

There was a hesitation before Sinbad answered, "I know."

"You're going to let me?"

He laughed.  "It means something else from you."

"Stop saying that unless you're going to tell me what that means."

Sinbad kissed the top of his head.  "One day, you'll kill me, Judal.  And you'll find out what that really means, and we'll both be happy."

Judal growled.  "Idiot."

"You, too, you know."

"Whatever, just go to sleep."

Sinbad laughed once more, kissing him again, before falling quiet and drifting off, Judal shortly after, still cursing at his words and far from understanding their meaning.  He agreed to be there when he woke up, yes, but he argued with the part of him that wanted to stay.  Those were thoughts to be angry with another night.  Tonight, he would just enjoy the hold the king had on him, and let himself relax in that warmth.


End file.
